From the Outside Looking In
by MrSchimpf
Summary: Paris·Jess. Both Paris and Jess see each other at different times in Stars Hollow during the Romeo & Juliet rehearsals, and ponder introducing themselves to each other. No interaction betwen PJ, just their observations.
1. Jess' POV

**Title: From the Outside Looking In**   
**Author : **Nate   
**Pairing:** Jess POV of a Paris/Jess relationship   
**Spoilers:** _Run Away Little Boy_ (Paris), _Nick & Nora/Sid & Nancy, The Ins & Outs of Inns_ (Jess)   
**Rating:** PG-13 (language)  
**Disclaimer:** You know it all by now, Amy Sherman-Pallidino owns Paris and Jess, Hofflund Polone does too, and Warner Bros. puts it all on the air. I don't.  
**Archiving:** LWL - The Liza Weil List at Yahoo Groups , Gilmore-girls.net, Fanfiction.net and Smoothly Edged, everyone else please drop me a line for permission to post to your site.   
**Summary:** Jess sees Paris for the first time from across the street by Miss Patty's during the Romeo & Juliet scene rehearsals, and ponders the possibilities of introducing himself to her.   
**Author's Note:** This is probably the first ever Paris/Jess fic published of any kind, and I have to admit that even though I know Paris so well (You ask a question to me about her I have the answer), I'm trying to do my best with Jess as much as I can. If anyone has a problem with the way I write Jess, I apologize, I had to make up some facts in the beginning of the story so I could explain some things, and I'm trying to speed by the episodes he's been in so far so that I don't seem redundant. I'm very interested in a Paris/Jess coupling, and a few other people have shown interest too. I just feel that I need to gauge demand for this story before I even think about a full-blown Paris/Jess romance fic. 

* * *

  
I'll be the first to admit that I'm not an easy guy to live with, especially if you're related to me in any way. For all seventeen years of my life I've been nothing but trouble with my parents down in Brooklyn, I'm amazed that my mom hadn't sent me away from home any sooner. I've always been a latchkey kid since I was ten, that's when my pop got divorced from my mom and took off for parts unknown, leaving Mom to take two separate jobs in order to keep us from living out on the street. She didn't do a very good job keeping an eye on me though, by the time I was thirteen I was hanging with the local toughs over on the busiest street corner in the neighborhood, and when I couldn't get a bite to eat from her I'd either figure out a way to separate her money from her purse so I could stop by McDonalds, or head down to the A&P and give myself a five-fingered discount, I wasn't caught that much at all, and she paid no mind to all my trouble. Until a few weeks ago, when she wondered where her $300 tax relief refund had wandered off to. 

It headed into my pocket and I just had a fun old time blowing it all on cigs and other vices like beer. When she caught me and my friends having an impromptu party in the living room with all the stuff I bought, she just couldn't take it anymore, she threw out my friends and asked what the hell was wrong with me that I was such a sucky son. She cited alot of things, like how my school attendance was pathetic, how the cops over at the stationhouse were all but ready to dedicate the chair I sat in there in my honor because of my rap sheet, and how she couldn't even control my behavior anymore because of the influence of my friends. I shot back during the argument that maybe if she was home more often I'd be frickin' Wally Cleaver in her eyes, and that she didn't give a damn about me! I also told her that it was none of her damn business who my friends were, and that as long as I was under her roof she shouldn't care since all she saw me as was as a deduction or credit on her taxes. It was me and Mom's worst argument ever; all the trouble I had caused in my life came back to haunt me as she called me an uncontrollable hellian and said that as long as I lived with her in Brooklyn, there was no way I was going to change for the better! 

So she pulled out the last card in her deck that didn't involve any kind of monetary exchange in turn for making me become a "good boy" (you know, Bellvue or some crap like that), she sent me to live with her brother Luke, who runs a diner in a one-stoplight town near Hartford, Stars Hollow. She told me to pack my bags, get my ass to Penn Station, and catch the next train to Hartford, then take the bus that goes out to that damn hick town. The minute I left I could've sworn I heard my mom sing "Hallelujah" at the top of her lungs. If there was one good thing about this trip, it probably prevented a black eye for each of us in our next fight, and we'd be away from each other for a year. Besides, now I had another family member who could take all the rap for everything I'd pull in that place, serves my mom and Luke right for causing me to ditch my buddies, who had to find another guy to play jokes on the fuzz. 

I got off to a bad start in that town, apparently Uncle Luke thought that being 'easy' on me was the way to go, so I easily took advantage of all the friendly people around here, trying to piss them off in any manner I could. Taking change from the charity bowl at that grocery store the annoying bearded guy owns, swiping a lawn decoration from a couple who were probably too nice to be mad at me, swiping a paperback from under the nose of the town's bookworm so she'd be all flustered and angry with me, or think I'm such a badass and fall in love with me. All that did however was strengthen Uncle Luke's resolve to get me rehabilitated, so he pushed me into a pond when he really got mad when I was indifferent to him, then he had the gall to say that I had to quit smoking and stay in school. Then I had to return everything I stole to the owners of the property. Bearded grocery store guy gave me some stupid moral speech thing, the gnome owners made me listen to some boring story about a jazz show they played once for an hour, and although the smart girl liked the addition of my notes in the margins of her book and loved seeing my coin trick, she told me I should lay off the being a jerk act for a while. She was as close as I could get to sympathetic ear here in Podunk, but not by much, I was just wishing everyone left me alone. 

The chalk outline I made in front of the grocery guy's store really pissed everyone off though, all the townspeople thought that Luke wasn't doing a good enough job helping me become rehabilitated. When I did this in front of the 7-11 near our apartment in Brooklyn, even my mom kinda found it funny, but no one here did, especially Dean, Rory the bookworm's boyfriend. What a stupid wuss that guy, whining because he had to clean up all of my mess, and he thought that just because she was the only one to crack a smile at my little joke, that I had an interest in making her my girlfriend. That guy has some issues, let me tell you. Rory just isn't my type really, she's smart, but she's just a little too nice for my taste, although she is really smart, going to that Chilton prep school in Hartford and all. She just doesn't have that, how do you say it? Edge to her, she'll befriend anybody if given the chance, but if the person is too wild, she'll stay away from them. 

What I really like in a girl is someone who's challenging, a girl who isn't afraid to stand up to a person if they try to make her change her ways, also a girl who isn't afraid to speak her mind and won't change her opinion no matter how much she's prodded on by others to do so. She also has to be feisty and smart too, so that we can hold a very long and enlightening conversation with her about something like the latest book I've been reading, "Great Expectations". Not to mention of course that she has to be beautiful in her own unique way, not caring about what other's expectations of beauty are, she just has to shine on her own in my eyes. 

And that perfect girl is across the street from me right now at that dancer Miss Patty's place, whipping her classmates into shape for a rehearsal of a Shakespeare project they're doing at school two days from now. 

Paris Gellar. From what I've heard of her from Rory during our few short conversations together while serving her at my uncle's diner, she's the number one student in her class over at Chilton, and she'll do anything to keep that spot, by wounding her classmates emotionally with words and actions, and shoving the fact she's #1 in their stupid little blue-blooded faces. The only thing she focuses on is trying to graduate as valedictorian, and then going on after breezing through Harvard to become either a journalist or a cancer researcher. Damn that girl can write, I asked Rory for a copy of the _Franklin_ (their school newspaper), and as student editor, Paris uses her clout to write passionate editorials about things she really truly gives a damn about, I read over and over her reaction to what was happening with women in Taliban-controlled Afghanistan, and she didn't just state her position and give lame knee-jerk reactions to each issue, she passionately stated her side and suggested lots of ways to change the way the women were being treated. And she makes editing look like child's play, all of the stories she picked to print, I enjoyed reading with interest, I couldn't find one article that I thought was horribly written and out of place. 

And when I saw a photo of her in the Chilton yearbook that Rory had, I couldn't help but become more enamored with her, it definitely brought out her personality in more ways than one. The way she sternly stared into that camera, those wide doey brown eyes looking straight into that lens like she was stating _'I'm queen of this school and I know it_', the way she slightly smiled into the photo, she has a very nice smile, and the way her dark blonde hair fell down her back, she was perfect to me, smart, feisty and beautiful. Paris is like the girlfriend I had back in Brooklyn, she was focused on school fully, but still found time to love me. Problem was, Cheryl couldn't get past the fact I was always getting myself into trouble, and because I was always with the guys I could never find time to be with her, so we ended up breaking it off after a while. Luckily Cheryl is still doing great in school, as a matter of fact she moved on from our neighborhood high school to one of the gifted schools which have "New York School of the..." in the title over in Manhattan. We could never love again, but it was for the best. 

I really wanted to meet this Paris chick, but Rory kept saying I might find her too much to handle, and that Paris wouldn't visit Stars Hollow unless she had some kind of school project she had to complete here. My heart sunk a little when Rory told me that, Paris is a city girl, just like I'm a city guy, and I'd like to have at least one friend who has lived in a big city all of her life while I'm up here, it would be cool if we could talk about something besides what the latest happenings were between Uncle Luke and that stupid Taylor grocery guy. 

And the name Paris, it just takes my breath away that it is her name, the way I think of her, she is like the City of Lights, her brain is always running on all cylinders 24/7, and she always is trying to come up with new ways to get things done. And then there's the fact that you do everything her way, or no way at all. She expects the best effort out of you, any lower and you might as well be cruising for a bruising from her. There's her feisty side right there; She takes pride in making sure that everyone in her group puts their best foot forward when they're in her group, that's why everyone would love to have a study session with her, they know that they're going to be pushed to be their best when they're with her. It's the few who can't handle the pressure who hate her, but she doesn't give a damn about them, they're nothing but a distraction to her. 

Anyway, back to the point of the story; the first time I ever saw Paris Gellar. 

I was walking down Main Street away from Uncle Luke's so I could try to sneak a cigarette in a dark corner of an alley, the damn nicotine gum just wasn't taking effect like it usually did. I walk past Miss Patty's dance hall, and glance a look at the person arguing with the tall and robust woman about how she had reserved the room on the Internet hours before for a school project. I don't pay attention and keep walking down the street, leaving the two in argument, when I suddenly hear the most beautiful voice in my life. 

"Look, I understand the whole _Mystic Pizza_, small town, we don't let a clock run our lives thing," she stated, "But I come from the big city, where money talks, and I'm paying good money for this place, and I have a schedule to keep." 

The eccentric Latin lady then made a quick remark about the girl's face freezing in place in the position it was in at that moment. I then saw Rory and three other kids approach the girl a guy and two girls, and they talked about starting rehearsals in the dance hall in a little bit, after they went to pickup someone who had strayed away from the group. The girl turned to face Rory as she ran to Taylor's to see if the other person was there, and it was then that I saw the girl who I had heard so much about for the first time. It was Paris who made the 'money talks' remark. I laughed as I leaned against the wall in the alley puffing away on a Winston, but then decided to put it out. 

Paris was even more beautiful in person, she was a short girl, around 5'3", but she looked even more beautiful than her yearbook photo. Her hair was so shiny and luxurious, and even though I was 150 feet away and out of her sight, I could still make out her brown eyes quite clearly, if she was staring at me right now she'd probably burn a hole through my shirt, I swear! And then she was wearing a red silk blouse under a brown jacket, the blouse made her look even more gorgeous, I could tell that she was a money girl, but I really didn't care if she had a friggin' bottlecap to her name, she was smart, funny and feisty, and I was totally in love with her, even if it was from afar. 

I wanted to go over to her and introduce myself, tell her that I know how it feels to be in a weird town, and get into a discussion about her favorite books and movies. But I decided that looking at her from a distance was probably for the best then. For one thing, that prick Dean might try to get in my way and whine about all the crap I've pulled since I got here, and try to discourage Paris from even making friends with me. Also, dating a guy like me was probably the last thing on her mind, I knew she was director of the scene thanks to Rory, so if I tried to meet and greet her while she was at work, I would be as much of a pest as Taylor is when he's trying to get Uncle Luke to hang his holiday crap all over the front of the diner. And then there were the other two girls in the group besides Paris and Rory, who I could tell would probably distract me from getting near Paris by flirting with me and trying to get me to be their date one night, even though only one girl is on my mind. And she really wasn't in a good mood in the first place, having her night ruined by an exercise class that ran overtime and one of her players trying to stay out of the group. I went around the block after looking at her for a couple minutes standing in front of the door, put out my cigarette, and heading back home for the night. 

There will always be other nights to approach Paris, and I know she'll be back in town someday, because her and Rory are sure to do more projects after that. While I wait though, I'm going to change my ways a little. No more cigarettes and sneaking a can of beer here and there, and trying to stay interested in school, so she doesn't think I'm a lazy guy who only cares about himself. I want to become Paris' friend so I have someone to talk about 'normal things' with, and then I want to be her boyfriend when she feels we're both ready, but that's at least nine months away at the earliest. I'm willing to change for her, so I'm hoping that I can get her to notice me, because I'm in love with Paris Gellar. 

There's one more thing we both have in common; Both me and Paris are outsiders from other cities, looking in, to that mystery known as Stars Hollow. We're going to get through this together, someday.


	2. Paris' POV

**From the Outside Looking In | Paris' POV**  
**Author : **Nate   
**Pairing:** Paris' POV of a Paris/Jess relationship  
**Spoilers:**_ Run Away Little Boy_, _Like Mother Like Daughter_ (Paris), _Nick & Nora/Sid & Nancy, The Ins & Outs of Inns_ (Jess)  
**Rating:** PG-13 (language)  
**Disclaimer:** You know it all by now, Amy Sherman-Pallidino owns Paris and Jess, Hofflund Polone does too, and Warner Bros. puts it all on the air. I don't.  
**Summary:** Paris ponders introducing herself to Jess when she sees him while taking a break from the rehearsals.  
**Author's Note: **I decided to do a second chapter to this fic, this time with Paris seeing Jess from afar and thinking of introducing herself to him, still no Paris/Jess interaction though, sorry, but they'll talk to each other someday, I'm sure of it. Thanks to everyone on the Paris/Jess thread for giving me the support to make up this last half of the story, all of you rock :)! And thanks to Roxy for proof-reading and beta reading, you rock too!  
  
(Addendum - This story was written in December 2001 before Jess' last name of Mariano was revealed in a later episode, so when I wrote the fic originally, his full name was Jess Danes, I apoligize for the confusion. As of May 29, 2003, I changed it to reflect his real last name due to a request from a reviewer of the sort-of sequel to this fic, Anachronisms and Mistletoe. The story remains unchanged from it's original form except for the change in surname.)  
  


* * *

  
I don't know what the problem is with me when it comes to falling in love. It's like we're oil and water; love and I are never going to mix, and unfortunately for me, I'm the oil part of the equation. The delicate house of cards that is my life over the last sixteen years seems to have crashed down in the matter of one month, one devastation after another heading my way.  
  
First, the Puffs sorority was finally caught in the act of their initiation by the headmaster after some sixty-five years of getting away with the ringing of Chilton's bell. And whaddya know, guess who gets caught in the middle of everything? That's right, little Miss Gellar, the shining star of Chilton, was one of the punished, with the added embarrassment of being roused awake in the confines of her room at two in the morning in the pimple cream her mother insists that she has to wear while she sleeps and the frumpy nightgown that doesn't flatter her figure by any means.  
  
I really have to stop taking my mother's fashion advice before I end up being one of the criminals they put in the Glamour fashion don'ts column. Speaking of whom, didn't even bail any of us Puffs-to-be out, despite being one herself when she attended Chilton. I was mortified to see that she sent the Honduran terror that is our housekeeper to pick me up from school and have her ream me out in Spanish! My damn mother doesn't seem to give a fuck about me, unless it involves my GPA or standing at school. At least she managed to talk Charleston out of placing me in after-school detention. The extra credit projects are a breeze, so it's almost like I never got punished at all. Still, it's little consolation, being that the final initiation the Puffs ever had in school history is going to be held against me as long as I live.  
  
Don't even get me started about what happened during the Shakespeare project, in which we had to reenact Act V of "Romeo & Juliet". At first, it started my way. I thought Madeline, Louise, Rory, and I were going to breeze through it pretty easily. But then it had to get hard. It all started to go to hell when we got this timid boy named Brad in our group. Leave it to the teachers in this school to give me a challenge, and that was to get through a whole project with this kid without contemplating homicide. He had no self-confidence in himself; Louise's hatred of him for being unattractive only caused him to become more closed in to the rest of the group, and I had to dull my bitterness around him, or else he was going to cry and run home to Mommy, saying that the mean group leader was scaring him.  
  
And Tristan had to come and join the fun too. Could it get any worse? I had watched him self-destruct throughout the summer, and the kind and caring boy whom I had always had a soft side for had disappeared, replaced with a follower who was disinterested in anything and everything except Duncan and Bowman. Screw Brad! Hand me the gun and let me shoot those two dunderheads point-blank! They had turned one of my long-time friends, and the love of my life, from a relatively smart and dashing man into another sexist pig who didn't give a damn about anyone except himself. I've had a hatred for those two ever since they teased me about my intelligence every day I was in second grade sitting next to them, but the way they had convinced Tristan to so easily become a rebellious hellion made my blood boil.  
  
If I was in charge of punishing them, they wouldn't be clapping erasers or sitting in detention; they would be facing me behind the school, and I'd be throwing punches left and right towards them until they pleaded for mercy at my feet. By the time I'd be done with them, their faces would be bloodied and bruised, and their dentists would have a grand old time fixing or replacing their teeth. Yes, Duncan and Bowman would make very nice punching bags, and feeling the full wrath of my venomous words would certainly be a nice touch. And to top it all off, a nice, hard knee to the groin for each of them, so that there would be no Duncan Jr. or Bowman Jr. ever welcomed into the world. I'm never going to do it, but still, it's fun to dream of those two pricks huddled up in fetal positions begging for the pain to stop for ruining the life of my beloved.  
  
Back to the nightmare of the project, everyone but Rory and me seemed to not care to do the project at all, despite it being 50% of our final grade. Louise was more concerned with how much cleavage her costume was going to show off and whether her shade of blonde was appropriate for the 16th century. Madeline was in her own imaginary world of bliss, her brunette mind trying to make heads and tails of the latest gossip she had heard. Brad was fretting about vomiting on stage, while Tristan, who barged in on our happy little group and became the group Romeo by default, was in and out, as his pager kept going off as I made important points about how were to go about doing Act V. Lou had to make the point that Tristan would probably get us a higher grade for the scene than if Brad was the Romeo to Rory's Juliet. Why am I even still friends with her? She just makes my life a living hell these days.  
  
Worse, Rory's dim bulb of a boyfriend Dean had to be at most of the scene rehearsals, making sure that Tristan and Rory didn't take their roles too seriously. I hate that kid. He should be able to trust Rory to not get involved with anyone else while she's with him. She's definitely not the kind who jumps from boyfriend to boyfriend at all. Why I'm even trying to defend Rory, I have no idea, but if I had a guy hovering over me like that all of the time, I'd become tired of him pretty quickly, and he would be back on the market really fast. The first rule of going out with someone is to have trust in the other person, and I know that even if I've only had one date in my life.  
  
This project was like the Titanic, doomed from the start. I couldn't keep Grant Hall reserved for our group to practice the scene, so I had to scramble to find someplace to do it quick, lest another group with another act try to take advantage of our turmoil and one-up me. And the rest of the group-- I hate having to acknowledge others who aren't doing their part.  
  
The last minute option was a dancing school in Stars Hollow, a town I had once referred to as just a left near the cows. I hated this town, with its friendly people who freely gossiped about everything and its boring Main Street 1922 qualities and quirks. Miss Patty's was my last choice, however, and I had to take it. I wanted everyone to be prepared for that Sunday night, whether they liked it or not. Thank goodness for her Internet site. That's all I have to say.  
  
The fighting and bickering between our group continued unabated for three days straight, Brad, Maddy and Lou just sitting on some chairs with disinterest in everything, hoping this sad chapter of their life would be over soon, so they could get back to what mattered most. Although Brad, sitting next to the two hottest girls in school, probably causing his hormones to go into overdrive, was probably having more fun mentally undressing Louise than I was in trying to get my damn grade by producing this fiasco of an Act V! Louise just looked at him as the worst guy on Earth, while Maddy was in her own little world, staring up at the ceiling, counting the number of nails she could see up in the rafters.  
  
There was plenty of tension in the air with the main players who I was producing in the play, along with the unwelcome visitor we had. Rory was busy trying to keep Tristan's advances to a minimum, while Dean was in fighting position, just waiting for Tristan to inflame him into action. I wish there was a such thing as a "combat A" because I was sure earning it just by trying to keep one of my players from getting into a fight with a bystander. Pretty soon, I was losing control of the scene, and it became a bickering match between Rory, Dean, and Tristan, and despite using my voice and threatening all the group with rehearsing the scene over and over again all night, my pleading was all for naught. Shortly after, Tristan left to do Duncan and Bowman's bidding after receiving a page. Rory and Dean were making me sick by trying to stay together, and the other three airhead players sitting on the chairs just sat there dumbfounded about all that was going on all around them. Unless a miracle happened, we were all going to fail this, and I was going to be the fall girl for it all.  
  
Later, I ended up playing Romeo in the actual performance of Act V because Tristan had inflamed the authorities and his parents enough to be sent to military school, while Brad took this hellish project as a great excuse to transfer to a less stressful school than ours. Smart kid, that Brad. Wearing the Romeo wig and probably embarrassing myself for the rest of my life, I "kissed" Rory before I "died", and I managed to get a B+ for our group for all of the hard work I'd done over the week before. See, miracles can happen.  
  
Now that I have all that background out of the way, back to the point about me being oil and love being water I made in the beginning. I made that point because something very exciting happened to me while the project was almost imploding around me.  
  
Everyone else in the group was either bickering or being just plain annoying during the Friday night sessions. This was just before all hell broke loose and Tristan left. I felt like I was about to have a nervous breakdown in front of everybody, so I decided I needed to take a walk around the block for some air, get some peace and quiet for a little bit. I had them take five just before I left and told them sternly not to follow me. They all shrugged at me and continued quarreling around each other as I walked towards the front door of the studio.  
  
I walked out of Miss Patty's and took in the cool, crisp aroma of a late autumn night in central Connecticut. I started my walk and opened up the brown jacket I was wearing over a shiny red silk blouse, which surprisingly was not making my head look big, despite my mother's opinion. There's one good thing I can say about this town-- they have some nice air to breathe in. I emptied my mind of everything and just focused on putting foot in front of foot. So far the walk was making me feel less stressful.  
  
As I turned the corner off Revere Street and headed onto Locust Avenue, I saw that there wasn't much traffic at this hour of the night. The block I was on was still in the business district, but it mostly consisted of small 9-5 businesses. No cars passed me by on the street. The sidewalks were empty, and the only noises I heard as I sauntered were the sounds of my loafers hitting the pavement, the zip-zip sound of my corduroy pants rubbing up against my legs as I walked, and the white noise of the gentle breeze of the wind. The block was lit nice and brightly though, and I had one of my hands in a pocket which had a panic button unit and a small vial of pepper spray in it. I may look tough, but I know there are weirdoes out there who might take advantage of me being the only one walking this block.  
  
The next turn was onto Main Street, or as everyone from Hartford or out of town calls it, Route 381. This street had a little more bustle on it then, so it's definitely safe to walk. About twelve people were walking in and out of the shops lining the street, and a few more were walking down it towards other destinations. A few of them were talkative towards each other and engaged in small-town conversation. A couple of small girls with their mother walked by me; they're kind of adorable, so I smiled at them and waved hello, and they returned my greeting as they skipped with their mother towards a restaurant on the corner of Main and Center called Luke's. An older gentleman tipped his fedora at me and complimented me on my silk blouse, and as he walked by, I quickly thanked him before we parted for our separate ways.  
  
As I walked down Main Street, I couldn't help but think of why Rory was always so happy when you mentioned her town. Everyone was so nice to you, and even if it looked like you're part of a rich family, they didn't care; the townspeople loved seeing a new face around. Sure, a few of them were eccentric, like the lady I rented the dance hall from. But as I walked down this street, I had to admit, those people were a whole lot friendlier than the people in my neighborhood. Then again, when most of those people you live near really don't care about anyone but themselves or their bottom line, it's easy to be impressed with the rapport these simple folk share. Still, I was getting kind of antsy to get back to the dance hall and continue rehearsals. If I stayed out longer than I had planned, then it would look like I was slacking from the play, and I didn't want to seem like I was doing that.  
  
I continued down Main Street and took in the sights as I walked at a brisk pace, when all of a sudden, something got my attention down an alley across the street. Make that someone.  
  
I stopped in my tracks and decided to take a quick glance at the person standing in the alley. I stood in front of a display of fruit and carefully observed the guy in the alley, being careful not to draw attention to myself. I don't know why I did it. I usually won't give a guy a good look unless they've done something to incite me, but there was something special about this boy that I couldn't put my finger on. I just stood in that spot, taking him in.  
  
He was about Rory's height, had jet-black hair, and was wearing a nice looking jean jacket over a T-shirt, while he wore a pair of blue jeans. He was leaning against the wall of a building on the side of the alleyway and was taking some slow puffs on a cigarette. Now usually, smoking is a big, big turn-off for me, but something was making me think of him as more than a bystander-- the way he just stood there, watching the world go by as he looked down towards the ground, slowly breathing out the smoke of his cigarette between puffs, and he had this look on his face that said "I don't care about anything else right now. Just let me live my life". I could sense that he was probably from out-of-town and really didn't want to be in that alley, in that town, in that state. It's like he was sent there by a family member to be rehabilitated by someone there so that he or she wouldn't have to deal with him himself or herself.  
  
As I continued to look at him, he looked forlorn, like he missed something. He took a hard drag off the cigarette and huffed out the smoke after he's done. But the thing was, despite the way he looked, he still had the freedom to do things; that guy didn't have to keep a schedule.  
  
They say that money buys happiness. Well, those people are wrong. If you've lived with wealth all of your life, there's no such thing as freedom as people such as that guy or Rory had. If someone were to take a look at my palm organizer then, they would have seen that the only openings I had in my schedule for the next month were the hours when I should have been in bed. The rest of each day was filled with school, educational meetings, obligations to community service, and a few invites to parties for people I'd never even heard of before. Homework and my Franklin editing filled up the rest of the time left. Looking at him as I stood there, I realized how lucky Rory was that she had such wonderful friends in that town and a great mother. She had the freedom to do anything anytime she wanted, something I was starting to wish I had. I had to reschedule a whole day just to get an opening to see a movie at the theatre.  
  
As I debated this in my mind, I started developing an attraction to the carefree city guy standing in the alley, and I wanted to go over and introduce myself to him and ask him if he would like to take me out for dinner sometime. I was actually developing feelings for that man. I had yet to utter a word to him however. He hadn't even turned his head towards me or the side of the street I was on, so I just assumed he really didn't care to be talked to at the moment. But he looked just so handsome, in that kind of James Dean/_ Rebel Without A Caus_e way. That's only one of a few movies I'd memorized all of the lines to and could say with the actors in sync. I just had a nice crush on James Dean for some reason. Maybe it's that I just wanted some tough boy to pull into Gellar Manor on a Harley or in an old car one day, take me away from Hartford for a while, and just treat me the way a lady should, without all of those pesky requirements that 'suitors' who have big bank balances have. I wanted to feel the wind blow my hair all around as I sat in the front seat of a convertible, feel the comforting fingers of a guy who's crazy about me on the back of my shoulder, and just let the world worry about my not being there to meet my obligations while I did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.  
  
I wanted to approach the guy and tell him I felt an attraction towards him, but I decided not to for the moment. For one thing, the pesky owner of the store I was standing in front of, a balding man with a beard, was annoyed, thinking I was loitering in front of the store, so he told me to buy something or move on. I had no use for a tangerine at that time, so I started walking back around the block towards Miss Patty's.  
  
Another thing, I was just not ready yet to approach him. I may pine well for someone else, but when it comes to admitting that crush to the object of my affection, I'm a complete and nervous wreck. I stumble over words, start blushing, chuckle at odd times, and my voice cracks. I lose control and just can't state my feelings clearly to the person. I needed a little more confidence in myself before I decided to approach that guy another time and admit I had an interest in him Otherwise I didn't have a prayer with him.  
  
But at least it's easier to look afar at that guy right now. With Tristan down in North Carolina attending military school, I can finally put what would be an impossible relationship between me and Tristan behind me forever. His leaving was kind of an all-clear to see other men, at least in my mind. My thinking is, out of sight, out of mind. Sure, I'll never forget Tristan being my first date and my first crush, but it's for the best that we both move on and see other people, otherwise I'll be 43 and still be hoping I'll be his wife someday, heh.  
  
After taking a quick last glance at him, I walked back to the dance hall and got ready to resume the rehearsals but not before thinking that maybe Stars Hollow was a nice town in which to get to know people after all. I didn't ask Rory who that guy was until we were getting ready for the play Sunday night, and we were awaiting curtain call for Act V, and I was in the wig. I quickly asked her who the boy was.  
  
"Black hair, my size? Oh, that's Jess Mariano, Luke's nephew. He got in a little trouble with his mom in Brooklyn, so she sent him up here so Luke can rehabilitate him and he'll be better behaved. He's a very avid reader though, so he's kinda smart. Why do you ask, Paris?"  
  
Jess? I loved the name. Like James, it had that nice "bad boy" touch to it. I decided not to show my interest in him to Rory just then though.  
  
"Oh, no reason. Just wondering who he is. Come on Rory, let's get this 'kiss' over with. This project's been hell," I say bitterly as we get ready to do the scene.  
  
At least I had a name to the face now though, and for some reason, I have an urge to visit Stars Hollow once a week now. What was just a small Shakespeare project to everyone else, to me, is an opportunity to change my life for the better. Sure, he may be a little bad, but to me that's pretty minor. I'm sure under that tough, gruff exterior lies the heart of someone who cares and wants someone to love. I want to be that somebody for Jess Mariano, unlike the oil and water that was Tristan and I. I think Jess and I would work out pretty well, just hearing from Rory that he likes reading a lot, imagining how wonderful our debates of a book should be. Yeah, Jess and I go together like peanut butter and jelly. That, and hearing my mother's reaction to meeting him should be nice and interesting. Am I a sadist or what?  
  
Stars Hollow has always been a mystery to me since Rory came through those doors last year. I'm an outsider looking in to that happy little town west of Hartford. But it's a mystery to Jess too; we're both going to figure out the town and each other, someday and eventually.  


* * *

_**THE END.**_  



End file.
